Kinky Detective Agency
by KxiThePie
Summary: John Watson and Sherlock Holmes have lived together for 6 years now, but one day when John comes home and confesses his love for his flat mate, they get together, and apparently Sherlock has some interesting stuff he likes to in bed. SEASON 4 SPOILER In this story John never met Mary, because of this, their daughter Rosie isn't in it either. uploads on Mondays and Fridays.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The bitter, cold wind stung at Sherlock's slightly chapped lips as he came up to door of 221B Baker Street. He opened the door and was welcomed by a bombarding of warm air; unfortunately he couldn't enjoy the warmth for long. Sherlock stormed up the stairs to his and John's flat, knocking loudly and calling for him. He couldn't be bothered with actually going in for he had a case to solve. Closely after that, his shorter companion came out the door wearing a jacket and shoes, clearly knowing that he was about to help Sherlock with a case.

The two men stepped out of their flat and hailed a taxi to head to the morgue. Sherlock had to exam a body and he always enjoyed it when John was with him giving a second opinion. He didn't always agree with the statements Molly made about the body, for sometimes she had no clue what was happening, which caused him to prefer John's insights.

* * *

John and Sherlock sat in the taxi on their way home. He had basically solved the case within five minutes of being there.

"Sherlock?" John inquired, "How did you know it wasn't a suicide but rather a homicide disguised to look as such?"

"The answer is Extremely simple. Lestrade said the victim was holding the gun with their right hand correct?" Sherlock simply asked but didn't wait for his partner to answer, he continued on, "Yes, but that would make no sense would it? Do you know why? Of course you don't. Well there were graphite smudges and pen ink on her left hand, meaning she was left handed. So she wouldn't kill herself with her right hand. I'll leave it up to the yard to find out who killed her, which was her private driver."

John stared at Sherlock in shock. He had seen him do this before, but frankly every time he did, he thought it was completely and utterly amazing. It astounded him, how could one person's mind work like that, so quickly, even with such complex things such as figuring out a person's life story, or even a murder.

"But Sherlock, how do you know it was her driver? How could you figure that out just from a dead woman's corpse and very little evidence?" John asked eager to find out, as there was very little evidence and really had how no clue how he figured it out.

"Now John was it not obvious? The woman was found dead in her car in the driver's seat. The seat did not fit nicely to her height and shape, meaning she had a driver. Anyone who knew her could have told us that of course, but they didn't think to mention it. The only people with access to the car would be her and her driver. I highly doubt that if she were looking to kill herself, she would have gone to the trouble of going to the car and getting dressed up as if she were going out somewhere. So the only explanation, it was the driver, simple." Sherlock stated as if it was the same as adding one plus one, ever so carelessly.

John didn't get it in the slightest and perhaps that was a good thing; his taller companion was really quite confusing.

The Taxi arrived outside their apartment building and they got out, opening the door to the apartments and climbing the stairs to their flat where it seemed Mrs. Hudson had prepared some tea for them,the smell wafting through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sprung up in bed, he hadn't been able to sleep all night as something was keeping him up: John. See, he couldn't stop thinking about him. He wasn't sure why, but John seemed to be the only thing he could think of. In Sherlock's life never had he thought of something or someone as much expect his work. 'What could this mean?' Sherlock thought to himself; he pondered for a minute until an unexpected thought washed over him. He wanted to see John at that exact moment. So he slowly crept out of bed, really not sure what he was doing. He just wanted to see his short partner very badly. Climbing up the stairs swiftly, yet slowly he reached John's bedroom. He grabbed ahold of the door handle, gently pushing it open a crack, but to his surprise John was not in his bed as far as he could see. Making his way into the room he set a direct path for the bed so he could examine its contents and as he presumed, no one was in it. He stood while staring at the bed when he heard a voice come from behind him,

"Sherlock, what in the bloody hell are you doing in my room at 3 am?! Staring at my bed!?" The voice was of course a rather cross John. He turned to see the shorter man staring him down angrily.

"I think the better question here is why are you out of bed at 3 am, Wouldn't you say?" Sherlock responded in a very soft voice, clearly unfazed by Johns unhappiness.

"I was getting a cup of tea Sherlock, as I can't sleep and no, that is not the better question. I prioritize know why my roommate is in my room so late over why I am not asleep at this time." John replied, feeling agitated by Sherlock's immaturity.

"I, uh, could not sleep as well but for very different reasons, I am sure of it." feeling overwhelmed for having angered John, he left the room closing the door behind him. He crept back into his bedroom, noticing that his bed sheets had been ruffled slightly. Had that meant John had come looking for him as well? He glanced over to his bedside table, noticing that the cup of tea that sat there previously to his adventure was missing. That seemed to be enough to prove his theory.

* * *

John sighed as he couldn't really be mad at Sherlock for he was doing the same thing after all. With little knowledge of it, his reason for being up was far more similar to Sherlock's. He couldn't stop thinking of the man wherever he went. Even the smallest things would remind him of Sherlock, like a simple piece of graffiti on a brick wall, which would remind of the case he solved with him about the Chinese Cypher. He certainly knew what this feeling was, he just sort of hoped it wasn't true. Sherlock was great and all, but dear god the number of people had told he wasn't gay, well he would have been lying to them all. Well maybe not John definitely still liked girls but right now Sherlock was his only concern.

He sat on his bed finishing his tea, then curled into bed, all well thinking of Sherlock.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlocks alarm beeped loudly, but he didn't fear that it would wake John, mostly because the alarm was in his head. He got out of bed slowly due to lack of sleep the night previous. He didn't bother getting dressed, what was the point? John had a real job and already left, if he were still home he wouldn't care anyhow. It was his own decisions whether he put his trowsers on, not Johns.

He headed to the living room, he was probably gonna go back to sleep, he wasn't on a case therefore, he was bored and sleep helped cure that. Sherlock sat down on the couch seeing Johns half full cup of tea on the coffee table in front of him. He picked it up taking a sip of the cold tea and thought to himself 'that's disgusting, he puts so much sugar in it'. Sherlock places the cup back on the small table, and gets up so he can make his own tea; without all that sugar. He strode into the kitchen setting the kettle to boil, grabbing the only thing he needed for his tea, milk, which was placed beside a bag of thumbs from a prior case he had yet to return.

After his tea was ready, he sat down on the couch pulling open his laptop, and starts to 'surf' the internet. He pulled up the blog John had been running to see if there were any new articles. There hadn't been for awhile now, he had learned to enjoy them.

* * *

John sat in his little office cubicle, his work was so boring, but unfortunately he had to go because he needed money for him and Sherlock. He didn't mind working in such a boring job if it meant him and Sherlock got to live and solve cases together.

John came to a conclusion when he was sitting, bored, in his low-grade spinny chair, that he loved him, he loved Sherlock. He knew this already but, being away from him made him realize it further. He felt not only love but… What was it, what was the word. Lust. He felt a great deal of lust towards his roommate, he wanted him, needed him. John shook his head, thinking like this was distracting him. If he really wanted to think like this he would go home, not stay at work.

The short man walked out his office door heading outside to make a run to the little café across the street to get a muffin and tea for his lunch, he looked both ways and crossed the not so busy street, then walked into the shop.

"Hi," he said to the clerk, "I would like a banana muffin and a tea please?" smiling kindly at the end of his sentence, starting to pull his wallet out of his pocket.

"Of course, what would you like in the tea?" she asked sweetly punching the order into a machine.

"Just black, thanks." he responded pulling out his debit card and paying for his order.

Shortly thereafter he walked out of the small place with his order, and he had made a decision. He wasn't going back to work after Lunch. He was going home to see Sherlock.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock sat at home on the couch applying a few nicotine patches to his arm. The television was on but he wasn't paying attention to it, all it was to him was background noise. After applying the patches he stood up grabbing his violin. He started to play a short, sweet tune he had composed awhile ago in a loop to help him think. His bow danced across the strings of the violin playing his self-composed piece beautifully, when he started to someone climbing the stairs leading to the apartment and just reaching the door. The curly haired man set his instrument down on the window sill and slowly headed towards the door. He was close to half way there when the door flew open and John walked in, quickly taking off his jacket.

"John what are you doing home from work so early?" he asked puzzled as the older man stepped closely to Sherlock and spoke a few simple words.

"Sherlock, I have to tell you something." he said this well slowly stepping closer to his partner, looking into his eyes the whole time.

"Well John, it happens I have something to tell you as well." he managed to breath out, John was making him flustered and he could feel his face turning red.

"Would you like to go first then?" John simply asked all well slowly getting closer and closer to him. Finally reaching just where he wanted to be, almost right against him.

"Why don't we say it at the same time?" Sherlock suggested quietly, looking down at the shorter man's face, seeing a mix of things, emotions of love, signs of nervousness but at the same time there was courageousness as well.

"Alright then, count of three?" John replied, posing a new question to which Sherlock simply nodded at, "1...2...3…"

Right after the word 'three' Detective Holmes and Doctor Watson both said at the same time three very simple words.

"I love you." Possibly one of the most said phrases in the known world had just exchanged between these two men in 221B Baker Street. John pushed himself against Sherlock and using his tiptoes to press against his ear and whisper,

"Not only that but I want you Sherlock Holmes, today, and now, please?" John had just said the magic word, he knew he always got his way when he said please, it was Sherlock's kryptonite. He softly bite his partner's ear waiting in response, until he finally he heard the word he wanted to hear escape from Sherlock's mouth, "yes."

The answer was incredibly simple but John didn't doubt it, he moved from biting his ear to kissing down his jawline, stopping right before his mouth and he uttered out two words,

"Thank you." in a tone almost a whisper, but as quickly as he said it, it was gone, his lips were pressed against Sherlock's, he slowly kissed him but he longed for more. Still holding the kisses he walked them over to the couch, laying Sherlock down and popping above him before continuing, he ran his hands through Sherlock's thick curly hair, down his sides, and brought them to his chest where he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, breaking apart from him, only to finish the job of taking of his shirt, making eye contact while doing so. The thing John wanted ever so badly all day long was finally all his, he kept kissing him, but despite wanting him, he went no further, as Sherlock hadn't said anything. He could have sworn he faintly heard the phone ringing in the back, most likely, his work, he did not care though. All he wanted right now was the man by the name of Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
